


A Sampling of Seashells

by AlexOblivion



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: After death, Angst, Destroy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Lots of crew, Mordin's Beach, No Shepard without Vakarian, Romance, Sad and Sweet, Shepard Dies, hurt comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 19:15:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3458732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexOblivion/pseuds/AlexOblivion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One by one the dead come to Mordin's Beach and collect seashells in the sun. If there were a life after death, this is what it should look like. But there's someone missing and she already promised she would meet him at the bar. Shepard keeps her promises. </p><p>Shepard and Garrus reunion fic after Shepard dies in the Reaper war. It is sad, sad, sad but it has a fluffy ending and I think it's rather sweet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Sampling of Seashells

**Author's Note:**

> This is straight from my heart, folks. If Shepard did die at the end, this is what I want her afterlife to be like. Please enjoy!

“Shepard.” The voice was familiar. She opened her eyes slowly and winced at the bright white sunlight pouring into them. A dark blob moved into her view and blocked the sun, much to her relief. Shepard was sure she knew that face but - waves pounding and gritty sand under her fingernails and that face. She raised her hand, shocked to find there wasn’t a gun in it. She had had a gun, before - 

a little boy, all shaky and hollow and echoing with her own voice, explaining choices she was in no position to make - red choice blue choice white choice - white was right, wasn’t it after all she was already a hybrid - but no. Red. Running. She was certain she had had a gun. 

“Breathe, siha. The memories are intense at first.” Another familiar voice. Her vision was clearing now and she found she could sit up, digging her elbows into the sand under her. A hand helped her when she swayed. She looked around, her eyes lighting on the first face she saw. 

But he - Virmire, sand like this, beach like this, storm clouds though no sunshine, his husky voice and dark eyes and lumpy implants and a bomb - but he was -

“Kaidan?” She gasped. But he was - so she was - the Crucible, red white blue exploding and sending shockwaves of red across the galaxy, then tumbling down to Earth, the immense blank relief of the quiet. Shepard refused. There were more faces around her and it was better to think about them than the quiet. 

Mordin was crouched a foot to her left. His hand was on her back. Her scientist salarian, urban not agrarian, singing and saving the galaxy because “someone else might have got it wrong”. Thane was a few feet behind him, all black leather and sadness. On her other side stood Anderson, looking just as exhausted as she felt. She had so many questions for him. But there were Legion and Edi, who shouldn’t have been here yet and Kaidan near her feet. Looking at each of them unleashed memories she wasn’t sure she wanted. 

“I’m dead,” she whispered. It was sinking in. Mordin nodded. 

“But I can’t be,” she said, “Garrus - I promised-” That opened a floodgate. Her blue and silver turian, with her from beginning to end, his confidence and nerves and that voice. Calibrations. No Shepard without - meet me at the bar - love you. Always. 

Her voice was rising and she hadn’t noticed. “Take me back! I promised I would come back to him, I promised! We were - we could have been - we were going to be happy! Take me back!” Anderson was reaching for her and she swatted him off. She didn’t want comfort, she wanted to be alive. But no one was saying anything. No miraculous plans of resurrection were forthcoming, and Shepard knew in her bones that she was here. When Anderson reached for her again she let him. 

 

The beach was empty. About a mile away Edi and Legion were walking together, occasionally stooping to pick up a shell and stare at it. Thane was sitting on a log with Kaidan up near the edge of the sand and Anderson was nowhere to be found. He had said he needed to check on something and she hadn’t questioned him. 

Jane was with Mordin down near the water’s edge. They were walking slowly, picking up shells every now and then. Jane would find a shell, hand it to Mordin, and he would inspect it. If it passed muster it would go in his red bucket. If it didn’t it was carefully placed back on the sand. 

It had been… well, she wasn’t sure. The passage of time was strange here. It was so quiet, and they didn’t need any of the things that usually delineated a day: no food, water, or sleep. Sometimes it was night here, but most of the time it was clear, cool morning or bright afternoon. She felt better here than she had in a long time. She felt quiet, and rested. They had won - she had asked - and now there were no Reapers, no Council, no Alliance to worry about, to answer to. Just sand and some shells and the quiet. She had tried to apologize to Edi and Legion but they had just looked at her and she had understood. They knew, and they forgave her. 

She was learning this place like she had once learned tactics or warfare. She was learning how to remember and more importantly how not to. She had yet to figure out how Mordin and the others could manipulate reality like they did, but she suspected it was just practice. She didn’t mind. The beach was nice and when they were tired a house appeared and they rested. The only thing she wished was that she could see Garrus, just for a moment. The others got news somehow, so there must be a way, but she couldn’t bring herself to mind enough to ask them just yet. The quiet was nice for now. 

One day Thane mentioned seeing his son and then she had no choice but to ask him. “How do you see him? Can I?” So he showed her, and it was easy: she focused on Garrus hard enough that her head hurt and when she opened her eyes there he was. 

It wasn’t long after the war ended, she thought. The Citadel was still on Earth and there was rubble everywhere. People had started building little memorials, little pockets of flowers and photos and holos on corners. Garrus was at one of these, the biggest in view. It was at the base of the Citadel and obviously it was popular. A long stretch of still-standing wall, about a block long, was covered in small mementos brought and left by the people- flowers, notes, photos, stuffed animals, candles, and other things were scattered along the length of the wall and Garrus was standing at the centre. He was staring at a large photo someone had tacked to the wall. He was holding flowers. Shepard walked up behind him and tried to touch his shoulder, though she knew instinctively that it was futile. 

Garrus heaved a sob and dropped to his knees, giving Shepard a clear look at the photo he had been staring at. It was her old Alliance military picture. She looked stern and worried. Garrus put a talon on the photo and sobbed. 

Shepard opened her eyes on the beach again. She couldn’t - it was quiet here, she couldn’t - she took a deep breath and was immensely grateful when Thane put a hand on her shoulder and didn’t say a word. 

It was another six months before Jane figured out that she could visit Garrus’s dreams. She had taken to watching him most of the time, letting herself get lost in her longing. She was dead, what was she wasting, after all? It’s not like she had a war to fight anymore. One day she was watching him get ready to go to sleep and the idea occurred to her. So when he fell asleep - finally, after tossing fitfully for an hour or so - she closed her eyes and thought hard. 

He wasn’t surprised to see her. If anything, she felt like he was waiting for her when she appeared. 

“Jane,” he whispered, and he was so close in front of her and she couldn’t remember him moving. He ran a talon down her cheek and she closed her eyes again, her heart breaking. She had hoped it would hurt less after a bit of time but it didn’t. She had hoped it would hurt less being dead, but it didn’t. 

“I miss you,” he said. She smiled at him, couldn’t find the words, closed her eyes again. Opened them on the beach. This time there was no one around to see her sit down in the sand. 

She visited his dreams every night after that. She couldn’t get enough of him - never could, really - and every night he seemed like he was waiting for her to arrive. They did whatever Garrus’s mind came up with that evening, from fighting Geth invasions to watching Blasto to having sex. They had a lot of sex. Shepard wasn’t complaining, but there was always something ethereal about it. Like she wasn’t quite there, didn’t get quite the same buzz from it. But most of the time they just sat somewhere and talked. The place was always hazy, like Garrus didn’t care about it. She was always crystal clear. 

She lost track of time again, wandering from Garrus’s dreams to the beach and back again. After a while, though, even she began to sense a change in him. When she went to visit him he was pensive, staring off into the middle distance. She watched him when he was awake and he had started working again. She didn’t think much of it until one night, like everything in this dream world, it all snapped into place. 

They were laying in her bed at Anderson’s apartment. They were laughing about something, she couldn’t remember what. They were lying on their sides and staring at each other. Garrus’s hand trailed up and down her arm, and her fingers toyed with the edge of his carapace. She looked at him - really looked at him, like she had been avoiding doing for a while now - and she couldn’t help but know it. He saw the change in her mood and his hand stilled. 

“Jane?” He asked. She closed her eyes, the wave of longing drowning in its intensity. His talons touched her chin. Here in his dreams, they could touch, and it wasn’t quite like living but it wasn’t quite like dying either. 

“Don’t do that. Don’t close your eyes. Every time you close your eyes I lose you,” he said. That had her eyes open and bouncing between his. 

“You’re too smart for your own good, Vakarian,” she said. He chuckled and it was a sad laugh. He knew. His fingers resumed their stroking, now moving up her shoulder and passing over her neck and face like he was memorizing her by feel. 

“Do you know what I noticed first about you?” He asked. She shook her head. “Your lips. Yeah, I know. And your teeth. They’re so blunt, but you humans can do so much damage. How oxymoronic is that? You’re a contradiction, humans, you’re all soft and squishy and devastating. That’s what I noticed,” he said. 

“Your voice,” she replied. He hummed in response. “Seriously Vakarian, do you know what that voice can do to me?” She hoped maybe… but no, he already knew and there was no other way this could end. 

“I fell in love with you because of your voice,” she said. He raised his brow plates. “I did. When I found you on Omega I didn’t know it was you. I just thought it was some turian we were going to have to bring along who would never measure up to you. And then you spoke, and I knew it was you and I knew I loved you.” She stroked her hand over his scarred mandible. 

“I don’t remember when I fell in love with you. I think I always knew. Never admitted it, but I always knew,” he said. 

They were silent for a while, neither wanting to let this moment go. When his hand stroked down to her shoulder again she picked it up and kissed his palm. 

“You know how much I love you, right?” She asked. He nodded. “As much as I love you,” he said. 

“I want you to be happy. Please. Move on and find someone and be happy,” she whispered it but as hard as it was to say it was true. He tried to tug his hand away, upset that she was even suggesting it, but she held firm. “Garrus. Be happy. Please.” 

“There’ll never be anyone like you,” he said. She kissed him again. 

“Try. For me.” And there was nothing he could do but nod. 

“You’re not coming back, are you?” He asked. 

She shook her head, kissed him again. “I love you. I’ll be waiting for you. I love you.” She whispered it until it was seared onto his skin and sunk into his bones. He wrapped her in his arms, holding her as tightly as he could manage. 

“You promise?” He asked. She was crying now and she didn’t remember starting. 

“No Shepard without Vakarian, Garrus. I’ll wait for you forever. Always.” He was whispering love over and over when she closed her eyes. 

*

It wasn’t so hard to be there, after that. She wandered the beach with Mordin, Thane, Kaidan, Anderson, Legion, Edi. Sometimes they were all there, sometimes they weren’t. Sometimes they sat in the house and talked about old times and sometimes Shepard didn’t see anyone for miles and miles. She checked in on Garrus regularly, and it hurt when he did start to move on but it hurt less than it used to. She went and saw the others every now and then, was proud of all of them. 

When Zaeed joined them on the beach a decade after the end of the Reaper war, no one was surprised. He grasped the situation immediately, conjured up a bar, and proceeded to get the rest of them roaring drunk - this place would allow that, of course. It would allow anything they set their minds to. He and Shepard and Kaidan sat in the bar for days, rehashing old war stories and drinking good scotch, no charge of course. Other people came in once in a while, dreamed in or out as they wanted. There were a lot of dead and there were a lot of places to go. 

They were surprised when Grunt arrived a few years later though, roaring in with the thresher maw who had swallowed him. Shepard found that she still had her armor and her guns and her skills and when she and Zaeed leapt into the fight Grunt bellowed “my krant!” They fought the thresher maw for weeks, until they were tired and the maw was bored. After that skirmishes became a regular occurrence.

Time passed. They wandered. Shepard saw planets, places she hadn’t had a chance to during her life, watched worlds rebuild and people taking back all they had lost. She watched her friends, enjoyed their successes and shared their sadnesses. The others would come and go and so would she but eventually they all would end up back on the beach for a while, like waves undulating back and forth over sand. 

One by one, the rest of their crew joined them on the sand. The dead always knew they were coming and made sure to be there for their arrivals. Their reactions varied. When Samara came she was calm, when Jack arrived she swore like a sailor and tackled Grunt. Joker cracked a joke that broke in the middle when he saw Edi. He ran to her - no Vrolik’s here - and held her like she was made of brittle bones. They disappeared for a while, to no one’s surprise. And the others wandered in and out, waves over sand, the quiet and the occasional seashell in Mordin’s red bucket. 

Shepard was on the beach again after a long stint away wandering the Terminus Systems when it happened. She offered Mordin a shell to inspect and was pleased as always when it went in the bucket. She couldn’t tell what he was looking for - next batch ready to disseminate, nearly there - and she suspected he didn’t know either. She didn’t mind. Three or four of the others were walking along the water’s edge, basking in the early morning sunlight. Morning was Shepard’s favorite, when the earth was still cool and the air was clear and the day hadn’t mired them in heat yet. Shepard walked a few more steps, saw a likely prospect in the sand, wedged between two rocks. She bent to pick it up - 

And froze. Her hand skipped over the shell and she straightened without noticing. Mordin was looking around. He felt it too. 

“He’s here,” she whispered. Mordin pried Shepard’s fingers off the bucket and patted the back of her hand. 

“Go get him,” he said. “Be here when you return.” 

She smiled at him. For the first time since her death she was nervous. She felt … alive. 

“Jane!” Jack was yelling from further down the beach. Irrepressible, as always. 

“I know,” Shepard said. 

“Do you want us all to be there?” Kaidan had appeared from somewhere. Shepard chewed her lip. 

“Yeah, of course,” she decided. They were always all present when someone else came to the beach and who was she to change tradition? That gave her an idea though. “But - not here.” She closed her eyes. 

She was sitting on a barstool, sipping a glass of scotch - no charge, of course - when he picked himself up off the floor and looked around. The others were scattered around the bar, waiting and watching and talking. He barely saw them. He stepped over to the bar, beside her, as close as he could get without touching her. She slid a glass of brandy his way, didn’t look at him. 

“You waited,” he said. The spell was broken. She smiled wide and patted his scarred mandible. He was old when he died, old and prosperous and surrounded by family. He was young here, the way she always saw him. Her blue and silver turian. Not a thing had changed, not a second had passed. 

“Always,” she said, “Always.”


End file.
